


Lull Me, No Matter How Far

by kangelique



Series: The Captain Swan Playlist [19]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Gen, Lullabies, Revelations, Sad, Season 1-5 deleted scenes, Slow Romance, Sort Of, Telepathic Bond, Younger Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangelique/pseuds/kangelique
Summary: Ever since Emma was a kid, she can't explain it.She can't explain why she occasionally hears the voice of a boy in her ears singing about waltzing the waves and diving the deep and the shining stars. The rest of the orphans tell her to shut up, to stop being weird or else no one will adopt her. She listens. She doesn't tell another soul. She keeps his lullabies to herself.Years pass. Everything changes. Everyone leaves her hurting, but he's always there.And now they've rescued Henry. They can breathe for five minutes. But then Emma hears it. Out loud. Her lullaby -coming from Hook's mouth.Plus  Tink has just dropped the bombshell "You two don't know anything about soulmate magic, do you?"Killian grins.Of course Emma's heart skips a beat.But also WHAT?
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: The Captain Swan Playlist [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1327670
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Lull Me, No Matter How Far

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt "where, every time your soulmate is listening to a song/music ( It also counts if they're the one making the music), you can hear it too."

**Lull Me, No Matter How Far:**

Honestly she should have seen it coming. 

Of course they were never going to adopt her. And now they were expecting, and she was right back to where she started. Again, she was the baby found on the side of the highway, with parents who didn’t even bother to drop her off at the hospital. 

Now Mr and Mrs. Johnson had sent her back, with apologetic smiles and guilty strokes of her hair. Fine by her. Screw them. She didn’t need them anyway. 

Her bottom lip quivered and she squeezed her eyes shut as tears rushed to the brim. Maybe she’d done something wrong -but she hadn’t. She’d ate everything they’d given her without complaint, she’d said Thank You and Please, she hadn’t told them she hated the purple colored walls of her bedroom because it reminded her of the purple embroidered name on her blanket, she’d faked a smile and nodded and accepted it. Like the social worker told her to do. No one liked a difficult kid. So then why?

Her hands curled into fists under the thin pillow. No. No way she would cry over this. Not worth it. So what, who cared. She shrugged internally, but the air conditioner coughed loudly with struggle and a shiver coursed through her spine. She tried burying the goosebumps breaking along her arms under her blanket but at the same time she shied away from it. Whoever gave her that blanket in the first place...turns out they didn’t want her. Her teeth grit together and her body bent forward quickly, knees pressing into her chest as another shiver trembled her lies. 

_“Castles in the sand,_

_Cradles in the trees,_

_Don’t cry, I’ll see you by and by…”_

Her eyes snapped open, bolting upright and hands swinging from under the pillow. Her blanket landed on the floor and her wince got caught on her face as she threw her head around, heart thrumming in her ears. 

“What was that?” she asked to no one in particular. 

The room plunged in darkness made it impossible to see your hand in front of your face anyway, but she squinted through it.

Her sock-covered feet hit the floor and she flinched -damn it, more clothing turned dirty, the lack of sweeping keeping the floors in dust and broken rubber bands and unclaimed bobby pins and dirt mushed under everyone’s stomping. The heels of her hands pushed on the creaking bed behind her as she hanged off the edge, actually considering the monster under her bed. 

“Oh my god shut up,” one of the girls on the other creaking bed groaned as she tossed herself, most likely to the other side, and the faint moonlight streaming through one of the windows that’d gotten stuck halfway illuminated the pillow the girl had over her head. “Some of us are trying to sleep here.”

Emma swallowed thickly, and continued narrowing her eyes around the room, searching for anyone crouched in the corner, maybe mumbling to themselves. Happened often enough. “Sorry,” she mumbed. Must’ve been her imagination. All those hours spent watching those stupid cartoons. 

The girl scoffed and she turned to lay on her side again, adjusting her cheek against the pillow. 

_“Oh, won’t you come with me?”_

Emma gasped. “Did you hear that?”

“Goddamn, no wonder they sent you back,” the girl snarled, shaking her head. 

Her heart dropped to her stomach and fresh tears sparked to her eyes. She was probably right, and she nodded, blinking quickly so they wouldn’t see what a loser she was, and the words, “Okay, goodnight,” were escaping her mouth before her teeth could dig into her bottom lip. 

“Why the hell are you saying that?” The girl snapped. “I’m not your mommy.”

Bad habit. The Johnsons always liked to say goodnight. She liked that there was someone to finally say goodnight to.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Shut up and go to sleep. I’m not getting in trouble because of you.”

That was key. Stay quiet. Stay invisible. And then no one’s going to bother you. Looked like she’d forgotten. 

Emma closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath -” _Where the moon is made of gold, and in the morning sun, we’ll be sailing.”_

What the hell.

Was she going crazy?

  
  


**********

Lily’s Ford Escape grew smaller and smaller under dimmed streetlights from her view in the backseat. 

Her eyebrows pinched together harder until one of her veins was faintly visible on her forehead in the rearview mirror and the throbbing between her temples increased, reminding her all her efforts were for nothing. 

The opportunity to sneak out wasn’t going to prove so easy again. They were going to put her in another group home, keeps tabs on her like hawks, and to top it all off, she’d be marked as a runaway. Add it to testy and picky and attitude problems and no one would ever find her appealing. No one. 

Emma glanced at her wrist and harshly grasped the hem of her sleeve and pulled it over the smudges of sharpie blemishing her skin -and Lily’s lies. What an idiot. She’d believed everything. And then lo and behold she actually had a family and a home and people who could buy her a box of poptarts any day. She should have seen the signs. How could an orphan even know how to play video games when the majority of them weren’t placed in a house that lucky? 

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Her chest heaved, how stupid she’d been simmering to the surface and curling her fists on her lap, nose fuming as she looked at the uptight social worker giving the driver instructions. Her frowned trembled, corners of her mouth aching with how long she’d held it, and she swiped her thumb over her tongue and sharply brushed it over the remaining black. 

“I hate her, I hate her, I hate her,” Emma muttered, and inhaled deep breaths to keep the boiling tears from falling. 

The driver shot her a strange look over his shoulder and she rolled her eyes as much as her middle finger demanded to be held in front of his face and the social worker and especially Lily. 

She crossed her arms and rested her head on the window, refusing to give her frown a break. If she did, if she dropped it for one second, she’d sag and crumple. And the tears would be Game Over. 

_“Hush now, my Storeen,_

_Close your eyes and sleep…”_

“Stop singing to me,” she snapped and shook her head, helping her drooping eyelids. “I’m not tired and I hate you too.”

Whoever it was. Whoever he was. He wouldn’t leave her alone either. Maybe this was something she would have told Lily. 

How occasionally she could hear this boy’s voice in her head, and that it sounded like he was trying to encourage himself, or trying to fall asleep too, if the weariness slipping into the tune was any hint. Lily definitely would have thought it was weird. But she had no idea what to think. Just that he’s there as the first tear slid down her cheek, and that his lack of pronouncing the r’s sparked the clenching of her chest. 

_“Waltzing the waves,_

_Diving the deep,_

_Stars are shining bright.”_

She titled her head towards the darkened sky. Faint, little pricks of white traveled with her as the car jostled over potholes and swerved corners. They twinkled, almost winking at her in pity. Houses shined with warmth, the families watching television and standing in the kitchen taunting her from smooth, unfogged windows. 

Soon they were blurring together, driver doing his best to jump through every green light, anxious to get there as the windshield wipers desperately sweeped back and forth against the heavy rain. The moon smiled above her, glowing with assurances that weren’t for her, because no one was her friend, and she finally looked away to hug her worn out backpack instead. 

He was a liar too. 

The stars weren’t shining bright. 

Not ever. 

***********

Oh no. 

Oh my god. 

This wasn’t happening. 

The test was wrong. Sometimes tests went wrong, right? 

But the majority of the time they were right. And the positive widening her eyes confirmed the worst case scenario. 

In nine or ten months she would be... _fuck._

Her feet leapt to the floor, the metal cot suddenly burning her, and she spun around like that would somehow expand the four grey walls slowly crowding against her. Her vision swum, and air, where was the air? The musty, dank smell of cells not yet cleaned invaded her nose with every useless, steadying breath. Her hand trembled violently, fingers loosening their grip on the truth. She stumbled slightly, blinking quickly and pressing her clammy palm to her mouth when the sob climbing its way up her throat threatened to humiliate her for all the other juveniles to laugh at. 

Emma squeezed her eyes shut. What the hell was she going to do? She couldn’t, it was impossible, she just couldn’t - “ _Oh won’t you come with me_?”

She straightened instantly, pushing the dried hair behind her ears because no, no, no. The boy -well actually it’d sounded more like a man these past couple of years, and he’d disappeared. She’d racked her brain and tugged on her ears some nights, hopelessly waiting for his voice to do what it’d done forever: join her in the dark. But he’d gone MIA. 

“ _Where the moon is made of gold,_

_And in the morning sun,_

_We’ll be sailing free.”_

Freedom. To hell with freedom. She was stuck here for who knows how many months. Even if she tried rising up on her tiptoes, with her face pressed to the bars, it didn’t matter because the sunrise and sunset were on the other side of the building and all that greeted her was endless polluted sky. 

Who did this British asshole think he was? Popping out of the blue and singing like he hadn’t left her hanging for years? The creases on her forehead enhanced with her frown, but as she opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off, her shoulders sagged and her cheek landed on the cot. 

“It’s been a while, how did you know,” she mumbled. 

No response. Of course not. He was in her head. And the empty air had taken root in her mind, engulfing any rational thought. 

“You know, I met this guy, and he…” Emma closed her eyes, lips twisting as the tears plopped. The test clattered to the floor, echoing in her ears, and her hand drifted to her flat stomach. Her fingers almost brushed it but she shook her head and slapped her palm on the cot. “I’m...I’m _scared_ , I can’t be a mother, I’m alone,” she whispered. 

Neal was gone. He was gone and he was never coming back. Probably in Canada by now, enjoying maple syrup with another girl, promising her Tallahasse too. 

She sniffed. “My cravings are driving me crazy.” What she would do for a bag of Lays, or a poptart. Preferably blueberry. She wouldn’t say no to a glazed chocolate doughnut. 

“I’m still mad at you for ghosting me by the way.” Emma sighed. What. Was. She. Doing?

_“Oh won’t you come with me,_

_Where the ocean meets the sky,_

_And as the clouds roll by,_

_We’ll sing the song of the sea.”_

The corners of her lips twitched weakly. “I really wish you were here.”

Really wished he wasn’t just a voice in her head. 

***********

Another banner year. 

With a steady job, no short supply of food, and a place to sleep. Not bad for the fifteen year old runaway, right? Right. 

And yet she made the same wish when she blew out the candle, the wish a hundred times more enticing than the cupcake. 

To not be alone. 

Then her eyes flew to the door. Soft, insistent knocking narrowing her eyes at the smoke wafting all over the counter as she straightened and almost darted to twist the knob. Most likely another pizza delivery guy lost. But she opened the door, expecting to give out directions, when her gaze fell on a boy staring up at her with wide eyes and a large tight lipped smile and hands clasped together and so _not_ a pizza delivery guy. 

“Are you Emma Swan?” The boy asked bluntly. 

Her walls rose as her shoulders arched. 

“Yeah, who’s asking?”

“My name’s Henry. I’m your son.”

Her eyes bulged. She needed a minute like she needed air. Not to mention an explanation. But mostly a minute to process or cry or scream or run. Running had never seemed more appealing as he ducked under arm and strolled into the apartment like he did this every day, ignoring her protests and stuttering lies falling from an already dried mouth. 

A minute. She asked for a minute. Because he had Neal’s walnut brown eyes and hair and _that_ scurried her faster into the bathroom and threw her palm against the wood as she bent forward, knees cracking under her as Closed Adoption, Closed Adoption, Closed Adoption zoomed with her racing heart. The walls offered no comfort, all white and pale and dull. Equally white tiles swimming in front of her and coaxing her feet to stay standing on the chilled floor, where it was safe and familiar and would always be white, pale, and dull.

What was she going to do? Maybe the floor would open and suck her in. 

“Oh my god, what do I do,” Emma panted, twisting and chewing on her bottom lip as her eyes snapped to every available space for advice. Knots coiled her stomach tighter. Thank god for the toilet next to her. “The kid...he’s...the kid is…”

_“I had a dream last night,_

_And heard the sweetest sound_

_I saw a great white light and dancers in the round.”_

She released a long, shaky breath and closed her eyes. Looked like the voice was returning, and not a moment too soon. Good. Finally the stupid British voice came when she needed something, anything. 

“Deep breath, right?” she asked, nodding. “Deep breath, yeah. I can do this. He’s drinking my orange juice, he likes orange juice too.” She broke into a watery laugh. “Fuck, I can’t.”

_“Castles in the sand,_

_Cradles in the trees,_

_Don’t cry, I’ll see you by and by.”_

He was right. No crying. 

“Thank you,” she breathed. 

So she opened the door and faced him -Henry, he said, his name was Henry. 

And she thanked the perfect stranger’s voice later. 

**********

Operation Save Henry was a success. 

Finally everyone could breathe for more than five minutes. 

But apparently not sleep -at least not her anyway. To hell with the number of times she’d tried to count sheep, or burn holes into the wall until her eyelids stopped acting stubborn. None of it worked as she kicked her feet and tossed onto her other side, shoving the blanket off and then pulling it to her chin, uncrossing her arms over her chest and crossing them even tighter than the last time.

Maybe it was the Lost Boys. Except they weren’t crying. Just dead silent in the other bunks down the hall. Or maybe it was the fact that they were soaring through clouds and sky and could fall at any moment if Pan’s Shadow escaped. 

They escaped. No more Neverland. Why didn’t it stick?

Neal. As soon as they got back to Storybrooke Neal would want a chance and she wouldn’t be ready and her parents would push until she caved and Hook...where was Hook?

Above the quarters, an easy silence had descended over the main deck as she padded her way across the few creaking planks and smoothed her hands over the railing, brushing her palms over the slightly rough _enchanted_ -so Hook wasn’t lying. The magic that helped the Jolly Roger sail faster crawling towards her fingertips and absorbing itself into her skin with a tickling. Shit. Just another thing he didn’t lie about it -wood before setting them firmly.

Seemed like no one else was suffering insomnia. Well save for Tinkerbell and Wendy by the bow, chatting quietly and occasionally pointing at the stars.

And Hook. _Killi-_ Nope. Still Hook. Still only Hook. He hadn’t left his place at the wheel in hours, and stood with straight shoulders, hand and hook slowly guiding the pegs this way and that, the same neutral expression that’d possessed his face ever since the Echo Caves. 

Emma glanced away before he could catch her staring, licking her suddenly dried lips free of the sight of him so confidently steering the ship, at home even, and instead strained to put all her attention onto the stars not pitily winking this time.

They sparkled, bright yellow and white dots so close if she leaned over she might touch them. The wind caressed her face as they zoomed through clouds, parting through the faint fog and whipping the flags while it threw her hair behind her shoulders. 

The corners of her lips twitched upward and she closed her eyes, breeze not carrying salt or the waves rolling it and smashing into the docks’ legs, but close enough, enough for her shoulders to sag. And finally inhale and exhale, deep, measured breaths working. 

They’d really done it. They’d really saved Henry. 

Humming -wait, _wait-_ reached her ears and her eyes snapped open, head tilting as she spun around, and her mouth fell agape. 

“Where did you hear that song?” Emma asked sharply. She’d recognize that humming anywhere. Humming that’d followed her to all the group homes. Humming that’d abruptly stopped when she and Mary Margaret had ended up stranded in the Enchanted Forest. 

Weird. 

Hook blinked, shaking the trance from his face, and arched an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon, love?”

Her eyebrows pinched. “Do it again.”

Confusion swept his face, but she nodded, lips settling into a thin line because no way. She was wrong for sure. “You’re referring to the sea chant I was-”

Her eyes widened and she jumped a couple steps closer. “Yeah, yeah, but it’s a lullaby, right?”

“Aye.” His gaze dropped, jaw ticking. “The question is how is it you’re aware of such?”

“I know how it goes,” Emma said softly, heart thumping wildly. 

He scoffed and shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s rather impossible. Given as how my mum taught it to my brother and I when were just lads-”

“Okay I know it doesn’t make sense because I wasn’t born yet, I think. But I know it.”

He stepped closer. “How so?”

“Sing it, I’ll prove it to you,” she burst. 

What was she doing? If she was right, oh god if she was right the voice, the boy, the guy wouldn’t be a perfect stranger anymore. 

He smirked. “I do so love a challenge.”

She rolled her eyes. Would it be so bad? Yes. No. fifty-fifty. She bit her lip. “Just do it. Please.”

He cast her a strange look -no shit, she was about to admit some strange stuff in his direction, willingly- but cleared his throat. “As you wish,” he whispered.

Emma waited, breath caught in her throat, walls trembling as she swayed, _come on, come on!_ , and her heart paused on a skip.

“Waltzing the waves, 

Diving the deep, 

Stars are shining bright-”

“The wind is on the rise,

Whispering the words of long lost lullabies,” she finished softly, their eyes widened, so widened. 

He shook his head, dazed when he looked at her. “Appears you were right, Swan,” he said, eyebrows at his hairline and she laughed but the moment flew and it hit like a slap in the face. 

“But how can it...no, _no,_ noooo, no.”

He reached a hand out to her flaying arm, but pulled it to his side at the last second, fingers curling into a fist. Good idea. Touching would throw her off the cliff. Hook sighed wearily. “I’m sorry, darling, I’m not following.”

She was. She was and this was crazy. 

“You...me…” Her accusing finger quivered. “But you and me...then that means…”

His warmth pulled her by her hunched shoulders, drawing her stumbling feet towards his chest, and he grasped her finger gently. “Swan, is everything alright?”

“She’s freaking out because you’re soulmates,” Tink -Tinkerbell, Tink, fairy, whatever- answered and her head snapped around so quickly her neck cracked.

His hand tightened around her finger. “Who the bloody hell said that?”

Tink smiled knowingly and gestured at their ears. “The songs. She can hear your voice.”

“Well I reckon she can, I’m standing right next to her.”

A light smirk glided across her lips. “You two don’t know anything about soulmate magic, do you?”

They both looked at each other blankly. 

“I figured,” Tink grinned and shrugged. “Yes, you’re standing right next to her but she can hear it in her ears, her head.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “But he can’t hear my voice?” Why did she care? Why didn’t she _not_ care?  
“He can if you send him a song.”

He turned his gaze on her once Tink said her goodnight’s and disappeared below deck with Wendy. “So you and I…” he paused, and pressed his lips together, studying her from under long lashes for her freak out, for her to deny everything. Denying seemed right up her alley. Obviously. Obviously she couldn’t. Obviously he was staring at her in awe and...was that hope flashing in his eyes too?

She snorted. “Apparently.”

He grinned, following her lead, always following her lead. “Well this is quite unexpected.”

“You’re telling me, but maybe…” Her mouth twisted to one side, considering, and her palm slid against his calloused one, fingertips grazing the hills of his until they slipped between his frozen fingers and interlaced with a sharp inhale through her nose. She arched a shoulder. “Maybe it’s not a bad thing?”

Warmth bloomed in his blue, blue eyes. “You believe so?” he asked quietly, like it was a secret, like she might back out. 

All those nights spent without her parents, without Henry, without anyone, and he was sort of there. He was sort of her something. 

Emma squeezed his hand and smiled a small smile. “Hey, you were always there for me. Or more like, your voice was.” 

His expression softened further. “I’m glad, sweetheart,” he whispered. 

Another assuring squeeze. “Me too.”

Damn it. 

Hook, of all people. 

Killian. 

************

The stairs leading to her mom and dad’s loft were suddenly too short, too soon as he followed her, palm hovering over the small of her back and fingers brushing the side of her waist once or twice. As the railing ended at the top, her hand drifted to her stomach, flinching slightly at the sight of the door. And obviously the expectant parents behind that door. 

They both sighed, resigned, sounds admitting the time was too little, but she arched her shoulders back as he gently slid his jacket off, dragging the warm leather down her skin, and revealing loosened blades.

He’d actually done it: managed to help her forget Storybrooke was under siege by an Evil Snow Queen. And that’s precisely what she told him as she ran her palm down his chest. He apologized for the run in with Will, and she shook her head because she almost doesn’t care he got away -again, _again_ \- and because the restaurant, the stroll by the docks, the holding hands for the real first time, on purpose, and _him_ , well...it was good. More than good. 

His expression turned serious and his voice dropped low. “Will you go out with me again?”

The faint pink tinting his cheeks must match the heat blooming on hers. 

Emma leaned in, breath mingling with his temptingly. “Wait until I’m inside to hear my answer.”

The soulmate thing. 

Nothing had changed since that night Tink confirmed her deepest fears and deepest hopes, but at the same time something had changed. They’d carried a new awareness, weighted looks, and secret smiles about this weird, maybe not so bad thing that was theirs. Not even her parents knew about it. Regina had guessed it early on after the missing year, but she’d neither nodded or shook her head. 

He caught her hand, thumb stroking soft circles on her wrist. “Or you could simply tell me now, love,” he said, quirking an dancing eyebrow. 

“Or I could kiss you,” she breathed, with less breath than she’d prepared for as her flats bumped his boots. 

He pursed his lips, mischief flitting across his smirk. “I’m afraid I’d have to choose the latter.”

“I knew it.”

He captured her lips, tongues tangling and slipping and spiriling, noses sliding against his cheeks and eyes fluttering closed and lips slanting sloppily. 

“Will you inform me of how well I did?” he said, resting his forehead on hers. 

She smiled slyly. “I think you know,” she panted. 

“Perhaps.”

She groaned, “I swear if I had my own place I would…”

He nodded, and smiled understandingly. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait till next time.”

"Ahuh.” The key almost slipped from her hand as she stuck it in and twisted. Emma sighed and gave him one last smile over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered. 

Her head lightly hit the door as her back melted against it, and she closed her eyes as her thumping heart slowed, and the crushed breaths continued falling from her swollen lips. 

“ **_Spoiler alert: yeah, it was good._ **”

Had she done it, right? That was only her fifth time using it. 

He chucked softly and she bit her lip. 

Crap.

She liked him, didn’t she?

She liked him. 

***********

She loved him. 

She loved him, and she’d pushed the sword straight through his cry. 

The house was silent with the broken promises of a white picket fenced life. 

The air enveloped her with its emptiness, numbing her body, stilling her on the couch, fresh tears dampening on her cheeks, dripping from her chin. 

She laid there, boring visions of their future into the ceiling, pushing his ring in and out of her finger. 

“I miss you already,” Emma sniffed. 

Maybe he would burst through the front door any second, demanding the truth again, asking her reason for doing this -if she never moved, if the cushions continued to hold her, then it was all a lie. The Dark One messing with her mind again. 

Where the hell was he?

She waited. Hours, maybe. But his voice never startled her. His voice didn’t snap her eyes open like it’d had since she was kid. 

Nimue was right. Now she was a woman. But who would sing her to sleep now?

Her bottom lip trembled violently and she clenched her eyes shut as the truth streamed down her cheeks again, washing over her as her sob met the pillow. 

**“Come back to me** ,” she screamed it in her mind, yelled his name, cried that it was her fault and that she should have been stronger, she shouldn’t have liked the taste of the darkness, she should have tried harder. 

Nothing. 

Completely quiet. 

Their secret was out. 

She didn’t just lose Killian. 

The blood staining her clothes was her soulmate’s. 

***********

They’re back. 

They’d done it. 

Defeated Hades. Saved Storybrooke’s magic. Stopped the darkness. Helped so many people move on from the Underworld -or so her kid said.

God, it’d been weeks since...she released a shaky breath and his fingers, assuring her suddenly quick blinking and galloping heart, caressed her palm. Her own fingers curled, searching blindly for the old rough and calloused feel of his, and when they slipped through hers slowly and laced tightly, she kept her eyes firmly shut for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for reality to smack her peeking eye, but when he gently squeezed her hand that was it. 

That was it and it was safe to look. Safe for her turning head to and wandering gaze to crumble at the hope blurring her vision. 

Yeah, they were back.

Deep, cerulean eyes returned her smile. 

And he was back too. 

A lone ranger tear betrayed the mask that she was okay, she hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few days ago, and her weary laughter joined his hesitant chuckle as he lightly brushed his knuckles against her cheek.

“Hey,” Emma whispered, teeth sinking into her lip when their dreading stares met. 

She swallowed thickly. He gulped softly. 

They had to talk about it, _needed_ to talk about the elephant in the room, the one keeping their backs clued to the mattress and twitching their toes because the door was open, inviting both of them to run. 

He pressed his lips together, his mistakes allowing him to hold her gaze for a few seconds before it fell to their joined hands. “Yes, my love?”

Camelot. 

Emma sighed. They had to talk about it, but not today. 

A grin tugged at her corner of her mouth and she scooted closer to bump foreheads. “You gave love a face, you know that?” she said softly, eyes falling closed as another sigh sagged her shoulders. 

He cupped her cheek. “I know that I love you, Emma,” he said hoarsely, fingers sliding past her ear and tangling with the strands. 

“I love you too, babe.” She grasped the lapel of his jacket tightly. “I love you too. Can you hear it?”

He smirked. 

Yep, the soulmate thing. 

He nudged her nose and sung her words back to her, “ _Now that you’re here, I’m holding on my dear…”_

She grinned at his flaming cheeks and bit her lip as he scratched behind his ear. “You’re not the only one,” she remarked.

His arm wrapped around her waist, hook grazing her hip, and her knees settled on either side of his stretched out legs as she ducked her head under his chin and muffled her watery giggle into his collarbone.

Damn it, they weren’t going to talk about Camelot, hopefully until tomorrow, but she pressed her chest to his and it was a flash of hands tracing arms and backs and gripping shoulders because his blood had stained her clothes and now his kisses stained her skin slowly, passionately and he’d been dead, Hades had tortured him, she’d saved him, too many goodbyes, and now their pulses increased. 

_“I could never get enough, something about the way we touch, in your arms I know that I am home,”_ he muttered wildly against her ear, and she freezed. 

“I mean it.” Emma shook her head and thumbed the scar on his cheek pointedly. “I don’t care if we weren’t True Love. I still would have loved you. A lot.”

No walls. 

No certain death pushing her walls. 

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Yet it appears we are True Love, love.”

“And soulmates.”

His face turned serious, blue burning softly. “That we are, darling,” he whispered. 

She frowned. “Don’t ever die on me again,” she warned. 

He bowed his head slightly. “I shall try my hardest, Swan.”

“Promise?”

“Aye,” he nodded. 

“Okay.”

He’d told her dad he’d go to the ends of the world for her, or time. 

And she’d gone to hell for him. 

Now he was back. 

And his voice did what it’d always done.

Lulled her to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> -Song: You gave love a face  
> -By: Liz Longley
> 
> -Thoughts?


End file.
